


Icarus, Returning

by Aiza_60



Series: Assassin Children AU [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Assassin Children AU, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce is VERY emo, Childhood Stories, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Give these children a hug, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiza_60/pseuds/Aiza_60
Summary: “My name is Jason Todd and I think I used to live here.”A pause. The Manor gates groaned open. Heart thudding in his chest, Jason gripped Cass and Damian’s hands and took them home.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Alfred Pennyworth, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Assassin Children AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992127
Comments: 75
Kudos: 379





	1. Oh Darling You Were Never Supposed to Burn (Your Wings Betray You!)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I try to be poetic sometimes hence the icarus and stuff. Anyways, a tw for Jason's death scene after the cut so beware. I made myself cry writing that so uh, yeah. Feels ahead! Hope you guys enjoy!

**“Oh Icarus! For all you have fallen, still you flew! And for a moment, the sun knew you too. (For those smile as they drown and laugh as they fall, who are we to define tragedy after all?)”**

  
  


Alfred Pennyworth, if nothing else, was a sensible man. A bit too sensible at times (if one could be too sensible at all.) One could argue that it was his sensibility that kept the house running like clockwork; though letting pride and vanity get the better of him was unbecoming of a man such as himself. 

However, it was his sensibility that caused him to overlook a very important detail that could have saved the household much grief. Two months prior, Alfred had received a call from an unknown number on Wayne Manor’s private line. At the time, he had assumed there had been some sort of information breach and attributed the call to pranksters. Now he was sure he knew who it was from. 

The boy was standing in front of him after all. “Hi again I guess...”

Alfred’s eyes crinkled. “Master Jason,” he said before enveloping the boy in a hug. Lord, he had grown so much. Tears pricked at Alfred’s eyes. “It is so very good to have you here.” He drew away quickly, hopefully as to not make the lad too uncomfortable. “Now, before I forget my manners; my name is Alfred Pennyworth and I would love to make your acquaintance.” Of course, he already knew of the children thanks to Master Dick and Timothy but the courtesy was a principle of the matter. 

The children that stood on either side of the lad were steely, eyes carrying that heavy numbness that Alfred had become accustomed to seeing in the trenches. He swore to himself that he would give them the world. 

“I am Damian Wayne al-Ghul,” the young boy standing to Master Jason’s left asserted. “You must be the family butler.” 

“Indeed I am, young sir.” Oh Lord, this boy was going to be a handful. His father’s son indeed. “And may I learn your name, lass?”

“That’s Cass,” Master Jason filled in. “She doesn’t talk much.” 

The girl gave a small wave. 

Alfred bowed his head, smiling. “It is very nice to meet the both of you. Do come in.” 

The butler led the children to the kitchen, mouth quirking as the children slowed to gawk at the Manor’s elegance. If the children were intimidated by the house, perhaps it was best to keep the meeting strictly to the less-formal confines of the kitchen for now. 

“Pennyworth,” Master Damian interjected suddenly. “I am hungry. Do you have any–” the boy was cut off by a sharp elbow to the ribs. “What? I am hungry and so I am informing Pennyworth so that he may provide us with food.”

Alfred barely heard the hissed response. _“Ihtaram."_ So Master Jason had picked up new languages on his years away. Whatever the boy said, it certainly dampened master Damian’s previous command. 

Nevertheless, Alfred served the children food anyway. What kind of host would he be if he didn’t? He set out a tray of roast vegetable sandwiches and fruit in hopes that the food would be to the children’s taste. He’d refine dishes later when he knew what Master Damian and Miss Cassandra liked. He would have to see if Master Jason had still retained the same palette as well. 

Miss Cassandra was the one to finish most of the halved sandwiches on the plate, despite Master Damian being the one to complain of hunger. Alfred smiled as he tucked away the mental note that she liked the sandwiches. That is until he realized that she was the one who had also eaten most of the fruit. Nostalgia tugged at his heart, remembering a small boy very much like her with a bottomless pit for a stomach. 

But Master Jason had hardly eaten anything. Not today. 

“Would any of you care for some tea?” The three nodded. “Master Jason, may I assume that you are still partial to earl grey with two sugars?”

“Uh,” the boy stared awkwardly at his plate. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

“Excellent. Master Damian and Miss Cassandra, what can I get you?” 

“I shall have what Jay is having,” Master Damian announced proudly. 

Miss Cassandra’s hands flew like young birds. _Same_. 

“Alright. It should be ready soon.” 

And indeed it was. Master Jason sat with a sombre solemnity over his steaming mug while Master Damian battered the old man with questions and Miss Cassandra looked on expectantly. 

“Did Jay really grow up here, Pennyworth?” 

“Indeed he did, Master Damian. I can even tell you a story if Master Jason will allow me.” 

Belatedly, Master Jason glanced up from his tea. “Yeah sure.” 

Given the approval, Alfred launched into the tale. At heart, Alfred was a storyteller and there was scarcely anything he could do better than telling people the escapades of his charges. “In the foyer, if you look closely behind some furniture, you will find a sizable dent in the wall. Unlike many things in this old house, it is quite new. Now, you must know that at the time it was made, a young Master Jason had just finished watching a video about how some very… creative children his age made a makeshift slide, if you will around their own house.

“As you can imagine, Master Jason was quite inspired and ambitiously tried to re-create the ride in the Manor. Except,” Alfred sighed, “he was determined to do it better, bigger and faster.” 

Master Damian and Miss Cassandra snickered into their mugs. Alfred continued. 

“So, he lay down some sort of tarp over the stairs and into the foyer to, and I quote, ‘minimize friction’. He attached skis to the bottom of a cardboard box (which he had dubbed the ‘Jason-mobile’) and brought his vehicle to the stairs. Can you guess what happened?” 

Master Damian’s eyes were alight with suppressed laughter. Miss Cassandra was beaming too, pantomiming crashing into a wall. 

Alfred chuckled. “Well his contraption seemed to work too well because for a moment, I am positive that Master Jason did indeed fly. Into a wall that is.”

The confirmation issued a fresh peal of laughter from the children. Not Master Jason though– who only smiled absently, as if far away. Something was wrong. The boy he knew would have squawk in embarrassment, berating the old man for ‘exposing him like that’. Alfred would check up with him. 

“And that is why ‘Jason-mobiles’ are now outlawed in this house, my dear audience,” Alfred finished charismatically. 

The front door popped, then opened. The children froze. Alfred sat back in his seat. Master Bruce was home.

–––––––––––––––––––

“Hey Alfred I’m–” Bruce stopped. Sitting across from the old man was– was– He was thrust backward in time. Back to when he thought the only thing he could feel was the heart-wrenching grief that suffocated him every minute of the day. 

Bruce remembered hearing the explosion just as his car skidded to a stop on that dirt road. No. The warehouse had gone up in flames, its acrid stink burning his nostrils. He remembered sprinting toward the rubble, tearing through it to look for– to look for his son. He had to be alive. Somehow. His son was tough, after all. 

He found bloodied fabric first. What was once a yellow mesh of silk and kevlar was now stained red red _red_. Bruce’s fingers tightened around the scrap. He kept looking. 

There was a faint groan behind him. He scrambled towards it frantically. His son was alive alive alive. Bruce pushed off the final slab of concrete and– and–

What he saw made bile rise in his throat. 

There was blood, blood everywhere and the skin that wasn’t slick with that coppery liquid was bruised blue, purple, melding perfectly into each other. His leg was bent at a painful angle and his face– Bruce swallowed. Carefully, he moved the battered boy into his arms.

“Oh Jay… I’m so sorry...”

The boy’s eyelids fluttered. His boy his boy his boy. Bruce brushed his soaked hair away from his face. 

“Hang in there Jaylad, help is on the way, okay?” 

“Br–” The boy coughed. It sounded wet. “Br’ce?” he croaked. 

“Yes, Jay. Now save your strength.”

The boy’s breath hitched and Bruce’s heart stuttered. “‘T hurts, Dad.”

He never called him Dad. Not outside of his sarcastic remarks. Why did this first have to be like this? Bruce hugged the boy closer. “I know, baby, I know.” He mentally calculated how much longer the rescue helicopter would be. Twenty minutes, at best. His mind screamed at him. _Stop the bleeding! Buy him time!_ Bruce tore a piece of his shirt to begin staunching the blood. “I’m going to try and stop the bleeding, okay Jay?” 

“N– no,” he rasped. “They’re waitin’ f’r me, Dad.” 

Bruce struggled for words. “Alfred and Dick and Barbara are waiting for you back home,” he said finally. 

The boy gave him a bloodied grin. “N’t h’re. Up th’re.” He said it like it was the funniest thing in the world. “Ma’s makin’ me breakf’st, Dad.” 

Why did he say it like this? Why did he accept leaving, leaving Bruce, so easily? Bruce ran his fingers through the boy’s hair wordlessly, tears welling in his eyes. “Are you gonna leave me all alone Jay?” he asked softly. 

He knew what the boy would have said if he had the energy. _You’re not_ completely _alone, Bruce. You got some pretty awesome friends– like Aunt Diana._ More tears threatened to fall at the thought. The boy gasped, as if clinging to life. “C’n I go?” 

Bruce looked down at his son. He hurt, he hurt so so much. Bruce couldn’t protect him from this hurt. He pressed a kiss to the crown of the boy’s head. “As long as you finish all your homework and eat your vegetables and promise to not stay up ‘till ungodly hours,” he choked. Like he was sending his son away for a sleepover. Why did this hurt so much? 

The boy sighed. “I love you, Dad.” He drew in a long breath before exhaling a final time, leaving Bruce all alone in the desert. 

“Master Bruce,” a voice called. “Master Bruce I do believe I taught you better. Now come meet our guests.” 

Bruce shook his head, clearing his mind. He needed to be present. “Sorry Alfred.” Swallowing his nervousness, he strode into the kitchen. “I see Alfred’s treated you to a favourite of his,” he said noting the tea, trying to break the tension. (Nevermind that Alfred hadn’t made that particular tea since Jason–) Try as he might, the only person he could look at was Jason. His boy. His son. 

Jason stared back, just as stunned. Bruce had seen the computer’s reconstruction. He’d read descriptions of his son’s appearance. Yet all he could seem to do now was stare at Jason’s face, memorizing it; the changed things– his hair, his eyes, that terrible scar that ran across his face. The things that didn’t– the way he could never keep his bangs out of his eyes, the way he squared his shoulders just-so, the way he pursed his lips when he thought. 

“I was not aware that it was customary to stare at people here, Father,” a young voice from beside him snarked. Bruce looked down. Hm, certainly Talia’s eyes there, he thought. But his nose shared an eerie resemblance to that of his mother– Martha Wayne. 

Bruce bent down. “You must be Damian.” 

The boy tutted. “You’re shorter than I expected, Father.” 

A girl approached from behind Damian. Her movements were quick, precise, but graceful. She looked familiar– Lady Shiva’s daughter he remembered. He smiled. “Cass.” 

She lifted her hands carefully. _Hello_. 

_I’m Bruce,_ he signed. The girl beamed. 

Then she looked over her shoulder– at Jason. She flicked his ear and tugged his sleeve in Bruce’s direction. 

Jason finally came up to Bruce, glaring at his shoes fiercely as he spoke. “You remember me?” The question was barely a whisper. 

“I do, Jason.”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember you though.” 

Bruce laughed humorlessly, now joining Jason in studying his shoes. “That’s okay. We’ll work through it, alright?” 

Jason’s jaw ticked. “Okay.” 

“Can I hug you?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, melting into Bruce’s arms. “Yeah.” 

Closing his eyes, Bruce relished the feeling of his long-lost son in his arms. But he had another son here too. And damn, if Cass would let Bruce adopt her, he would. So he opened his eyes and motioned at them to join him. They did so hesitantly, but Bruce welcomed them all the same.

He didn’t think his heart could ever feel so full again.


	2. It Was the Sun That Burned You, Yet the Moon is Not Innocent

Jason didn’t know what was worse– the fact that everyone here acted like they knew him or that he was supposed to know them and he couldn’t. He may not have been as adept at reading people as Cass, but he knew what those glances meant. He knew what those bittersweet smiles that Alfred gave him meant. What the awkward conversations between him and Bruce meant.

They looked at him like they expected him to be something, say something else, tell them how much he missed them and how happy he was to be home. He was happy to be there, of course. But they were expecting him to pick up where they left off when all the pages before were muddied and lost. Which made him feel all the more like an impostor. 

He was stealing someone’s life. 

He tried smiling at Alfred’s story (though damn him, he didn’t register a world the old man said) and tried to act like the ‘old Jason’ as best he could. That was hard enough when he never even knew the ‘old Jason’ but the building headache behind his eyes, the pounding in his skull didn’t help much either. 

“Earth to Jason,” Bruce’s voice called. 

Jason blinked. “Oh sorry. What did you say?” 

Bruce gave him that small smile. That one where it looked like he had some sort of inside joke. If he really did, he should’ve known Jason sure wasn’t gonna remember it. “I asked if you wanted to come with us while I showed Cass and Damian around the Manor.”

“No thanks, I think my feet remember well enough for me. Is it okay if I wander around on my own?” 

“Of course. Yell if you need anything.” And with that, Bruce Wayne swept away the only people Jason felt like he knew. 

They went to the hall on the left. So Jason decided to go right. Lately, the haze of green in his brain had begun to clear ever so slightly. And while he couldn’t recall much more, it was certainly more than he’d remembered two months ago. One of those memories had included a huge library that Jason was sure was located somewhere in the Manor. Maybe he’d find it. 

His feet guided him throughout the empty halls. Jason didn’t know how he had lived here during his childhood. The echoing silence was eerie. 

And so were the paintings that adorned the walls. They had to be old– like super old. They showed what Jason assumed to be Bruce’s ancestors. They looked melancholy. And lonely. Jason shivered and walked away. 

Finally– one of the doors was open. From inside came the warm glow of a fireplace. It looked much more enticing than the creepy hallway. There was a desk, stacked with papers and a row of bookshelves lining one wall. This was probably Bruce’s office. Stepping closer, Jason wiped a thin film of dust off the edge off the shelf. The titles contained works about law, psychology, criminology, business and the likes. By the look of it though, Bruce didn't seem to read them much. 

Trailing his finger off of the shelf, he made his way to the desk. Which Bruce apparently used much more than the books from the shelf. The papers were neatly stacked instead of strewn, but that couldn’t hide the stray pen that had rolled to the center of the desk.

The corner of the desk even sported some vandalism– The initials J.T. had been carved into the wood messily. Jason smirked. Even younger him just couldn’t help but stick it to the man. 

As the afternoon light gave way to dusk, Jason searched the room for other relics he had left behind. He might need a light at this point because it was getting pretty dark. Damn, what time was it anyway? His eyes flitted to the grandfather clock near the bookcase. Which was… broken. Odd. 

Walking up to it, Jason turned the hands of the clock. There was a click. Wait, why had he turned the hands to 10:47? It wasn’t even anywhere close to ten. 

Then the clock moved. Giving way to an… elevator. 

Jason swore under his breath. Just what was Brucie Wayne hiding? Against all common sense, he stepped inside. A computer beeped. _‘Welcome, Jason_.’ 

“Hi?” 

The computer gave no response. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. 

“ _Holy mother of chili dogs…”_

It was a cave. An actual cave. But like– made awesome. There was what Jason supposed was a training area, an armoury, a medical bay, a computer area and– oh wow that car _was_ a beauty. And man, did those suits look cool or what? 

The armoury was closest, so he started with that. Cases along the wall showed several iterations of the Batsuit and Nightwing suit, as well as two versions of Robin. Did that make Bruce Batman? Somehow he wasn’t surprised. If he’d lived with Bruce, he guessed he already used to know that. Still, the information made his head hurt. 

There was a suit in a case isolated from the rest. A Robin suit. Even from a distance, Jason could tell it was tattered and dirty. Why would Bruce put up an old uniform? The spotlights shone on it made it seem special though. Demanding of his attention. The air seemed to still as he approached. 

The uniform was bloodstained. Badly. No amount of careful cleaning would wholly get those out. Further inspection showed him mended tears that– that– Jason pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the case. He had scars in the same places as those tears. He felt sick. He glanced down at the brass plaque at the bottom of the case. 

_Jason Todd. Robin II._

Jason slid to the floor. Robin. Robin II. 

He– he had been Robin. He died as Robin. He died as they replaced him– quickly, easily. That’s what you were supposed to do with weapons, weren’t you? They broke, so you got new ones. Better ones. That’s how it worked. But it still hurt. It _ached_. 

_You’re replaceable. Bruce replaced you. Ra’s was going to replace you sooner or later too. Talia got rid of you,_ the angry voice in his head whispered. _One day Damian and Cass will replace you too._

 _Shut up_ , he told the voices. But it didn’t matter. The corners of his vision were already tainted – that awful awful colour. It hissed at him, daring him to trap it back into its fragile prison. His head hurt. It was like a swarm of bees crawling into his brain, buzzing buzzing buzzing. He could feel them– crawling in his ears, nose mouth. It was hungry. It was always hungry. Jason didn’t think he had the strength to hold it off. Not this time. 

At least there was nobody he could hurt here. 

He let go. The hurt building in his chest exploded with a roar and his fist drove itself into the glass case. Again. Again. Again, each strike mimicking heartbeats. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ The glass splinted. _Thud._ It shattered. Was it blood or sweat that made his fists slick? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he knew was the burning rage that would consume him if he didn’t push it out fast enough. 

________________

There was the distinct sound of something being punched as Tim stepped through the zeta tube. Had Bruce gotten into one of those _moods_ again? Dammit. All he wanted was a hot shower and some peace. Was that too much to ask for after busting a drug cartel on the other side of the continent? 

Dick evidently had the same thoughts. “Bruce?” 

There was no reply. But the noise stopped. Tim shed his cape and stepped further into the cave to investigate. Dick gave him a knowing look. _Let me handle this_. 

But it wasn’t Bruce that had subjected the cave to his foul moods. Bruce wasn’t even in the cave. Tim’s breath caught. It was Jason, hunched over the remains of his memorial with bloody knuckles. 

“Jason,” Dick called softly. “You okay there?” 

The boy whipped around, face wet and eyes glistening an acid green. “What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse. He’d been yelling. 

Tim recognized that look. That look when he’d smashed that metal crate like it was cardboard. It had been more subdued last time– but just as scary nonetheless. 

“We just finished with a mission,” Dick said easily. “I don’t know about you but you can get pretty tired after that.’

Jason’s fingers twitched. “You need to leave.” He shifted on his feet uneasily. “I– I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“Don’t worry Jay, we’ll be fine. Does Bruce know you’re here?” 

That was the wrong thing to say. 

“ _Bruce? Don’t talk to me about_ Bruce. _Bruce replaced us_. _We’re weapons._ ” He wagged a finger at Tim ominously. “He’ll replace you too. When a better weapon comes along–”

“Jason stop.” Dick’s commanding voice rang throughout the cave. He marched towards the boy, who tensed at the action. Dick enveloped him in his arms. “Come here, Tim.”

Tim obeyed hesitatingly. What was Dick doing?

“Why don’t you tell Jason what was up with Bruce after he… left?” 

Tim swallowed, glancing at Jason. With half his face buried in Dick’s shirt and wrapped in his arms, Jason never looked so… small. “Bruce wasn’t in a good place… mentally. He was getting reckless, like he _wanted_ to die on missions. He cut off Dick and Barbara, and barely spoke to Alfred.” His voice quieted. “He left seventeen people for dead, Jason. If nobody was there to call an ambulance, they would have died.”

The only reaction Jason gave was the muffled breathing through Dick’s shirt. Dick still held him fiercely, as if letting him go would be akin to losing his brother again. Tim decided to continue. 

“I– I figured out Batman’s identity at nine. I felt like I could help. Batman needs a Robin, y’know? So I asked Dick to be Robin again. He… he didn’t want to. So I demanded that Bruce train me. I never wanted to be a replacement, more like a… placeholder.” Tim smoothed out the fabric of his pants. “You can have Robin back if you want.” 

“No.” 

“What?” 

Jason pushed himself away from Dick. Sighing, he wiped his face with the back of his arm. He looked less angry. “I said no. You keep Robin.”

“Are you sure?”

Jason raised an eyebrow in a way that reminded Tim of Alfred. “Don’t make me think that the third Robin is as dense as the first one,” he said, ignoring a _‘Hey!_ ’ of protest from Dick. “‘Sides, I’m not Robin anymore. I don’t even remember Robin.” Jason scratched his neck. “I’m… I’m sorry about what I said. Sometimes I just get so… so _angry_.” 

Tim ducked his head. “It’s okay.”

“Are you forgetting who lives in this house?” Dick asked cheekily. “The only one of us who doesn’t have a temper is Alfred. And that’s ‘cause he’s _old_.”

“Who are you calling old, Master Dick?” Alfred’s voice came from the stairwell. 

The three boys froze. 

Alfred chuckled. “Please wash up and come upstairs for dinner. Do bring up Master Bruce’s jumper while you’re at it,” he said as he left. 

“You heard the man,” Tim shrugged. “To the showers!” 

Dick laughed, grunting as he slung Tim over his shoulder (who squawked in the most _dignified_ way) and led Jason to the showers. 

“Put me down, you hooligan!” Tim shouted. He tried to squirm out of Dick’s grip to no avail. He shifted to meet Jason’s gaze. “Save me, oh wizened warrior Jason.” Jason grinned, shaking his head. Defeated, Tim went limp. After all, the joke was on Dick. He didn’t get to see Jason’s smile. 

__________

  
  


Dinner was an awkward affair. For all the social adequacy Dick had, the combined tactless efforts of everyone else at the table quickly drowned that out. Jason found himself barely able to pay attention over the repeated mantra in his head; what would the old Jason do? 

Bruce cleared his throat. “So… it’s getting late and I’d hate to send you out without somewhere to go. Would you three like to stay for the night? We have more than enough room.” 

Jason didn’t know how he felt about staying. There was too much history here that he had yet to reconcile with. But there was nowhere else to go. Sure, Bruce could probably rent out a hotel room for them but Cass and Damian… they deserved a chance at a normal life here. Jason could tough out a few nights. So he agreed. 

“We’ll stay. Thanks, Bruce.”

The table went silent once more. Dick tried to start up a conversation (about the weather, of all things) that fizzled out rather quickly. Bruce’s fork clinked against his plate. “I know this is a bit early, but I have a question for you. How would you feel about formally being part of the family?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean, you don’t have to make up your mind right now, I’d just like you to consider it.”

“I have no qualms about that,” Damian said. He huffed. “But Jay is legally dead, Father. Will that not be an impairment in that plan?” 

“Yeah,” Dick piped up, “but Bruce really can work wonders. Just might take a little bit more effort to convince the press.” 

Tim nudged Jason in the ribs. “Now you can legally be a zombie too,” he snickered. 

“Just what I always wanted,” Jason drawled, rolling his eyes. He was about to at least attempt to finish his food when his phone rang from his pocket. “Excuse me, I gotta take this,” he said, waving the phone in the air. 

Safely away from the noise of the table, he picked up the call. “Oh my God Sannah you literally saved me there.” 

The doctor chuckled. _“Awkward conversation?”_

“Think awkward then dial it up to one hundred.” 

_“How are things going with your dad?”_

Jason inspected his fingernails. “He’s… well he’s nice but I keep getting the feeling he was expecting the old me to come back. He’s good with Damian and Cass though. Wants us all to stay with him if we want to.”

_“That’s good. Remember what we talked about though. You both gotta put in the effort. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”_

“Yeah, but it burned in one,” Jason mumbled. He sighed. “Everything’s just so much harder in practice, Sannah.” 

_“Mm. Tell me about it.”_ The sound of shuffling came through the phone. “ _I normally wouldn’t have called at this time but… someone came into the clinic asking about the three of you. They were dressed similarly to how you were the night we met.”_

Jason swore under his breath. The League was onto them. Not that Sannah knew about the League. All she knew was that they escaped a sort-of-cult which was now after them. It wasn’t far from the truth. “Did they hurt you?” 

_“No. Thank God. Threatened me though.”_

“What did they say?” 

_“They asked if I'd seen people matching your descriptions around recently. I told them no.”_

“Thanks, Sannah. Lay low for a few days. Maybe get out of town. Just be careful- these guys are dangerous.”

_“Alright. You stay safe okay? And say hi to Cass and Damian for me.”_

Jason smiled. “I will.”

He hung up. Damn. This just got a whole lot more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason: I'm going to hijack this chapter and have two POVs!
> 
> Me: OH Noooo I'm gonna have to write all that :(
> 
> Anyway, Jason's whole dilemma with Robin played out differently because of the different reunion. Talia never told him about his old life while he was in the league so he never came to resent Bruce and by extension, Tim. Sure, he feels hurt because he was replaced, but the hurt was never about robin. For Jason, it was his place in the family. He just wants to be loved poor bby :(


	3. Preparing Wings Once Again, Icarus?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm not dead! Sorry for the late update, writer's block and executive dysfunction are a pain :((  
> I also started a new AU in which Jason can see ghosts!! I have no idea when it will be out but that's also partly the reason that this is late lol. So yeah. Twice the projects make for slower updates :( But I will try my best to stay on top of that
> 
> Anyway, that's enough from me, enjoy!

Despite the luxurious bedding, quiet room and comfortable clothes, Damian found himself unable to sleep. He knew he was safe– his father was a trustworthy person as far as Damian was concerned– but he couldn’t seem to get himself to drift off. His mind was just too full of thoughts. He tossed himself to the other side of the bed. Perhaps this side would magically bring about sleep.

It didn’t. 

Damian sighed. How Jay managed to live here during his youth was beyond him. And if Damian’s observations during the day were correct, he might have been thinking the same thing too. Or something similar. He had been acting… strange, to say the least. Damian’s feet moved on their own accord, getting out of bed and taking Damian to the bathroom that connected his and Cain’s rooms. He wasn’t surprised to find her awake as well. 

“Cain.” 

The girl gave him a nod of acknowledgement. 

“You cannot sleep?” 

She shrugged, fingers playing with the bedding in front of her. She patted the empty space beside her, inviting Damian to come sit. 

“Have you noticed Jay’s odd behavior?” 

Cain nodded. “Fix it,” she signed. 

Damian sighed. “How? He’s only acted this way since we arrived, so it is presumably this place. We must confront him.” 

A knock sounded on the door. Damian stilled. A second later, Jay pushed it open. Damian might’ve commented on the borrowed t-shirt he wore that sported a drawing of some inane children’s cartoon character if not for the look on the boy’s face. 

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Jay said. He sounded exhausted, as if the bags under his eyes were not testament enough to that development. Damian expected him to make some jab about how rude they were to not invite him to Cain’s room, but it was not even addressed. Clearly, something was wrong. 

Jay took a breath. “Sannah called.” Cain instantly perked up. “She says hi to both of you.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “What else did she say?” 

“The League sent an operative to her clinic looking for us. She covered for us, and she said they didn’t hurt her… but they likely haven’t given up.” 

Cain grunted. “Plan?” she signed. 

“I say we draw them here. Then we take care of them.” 

“We cannot fight the entire League, Jay,” Damian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We must send a message. They must know that it would be unwise to try and challenge us.” 

Jay raised an eyebrow. “What, you wanna send the operatives’ heads back to the League in a duffel bag?” 

Cain shook her head sternly. She was vehemently against that level of violence. Damian knew well enough that they had all had more than enough of it while in the League. 

“That is garish,” Damian finally decided to remark,” however, I do like your idea of drawing the operatives here. Once the League knows we are affiliated with my Father, they will not dare to cross us.” 

Jay hummed, nodding. “Plus, we’ll have backup if we need it.” He cast a look at Damian, eyes glinting. “And don’t scowl at me and tell me how you won’t need backup, brat.” 

Damian gave him a cheshire grin.“I might not, but you will!” he cried and launched himself into the air, tackling Jay onto the bed. Cain laughed, helping Damian pin Jay down. 

“Hey, lemme go!” Jay struggled, but Damian and Cain’s coupled efforts were a challenging thing to get out of. The boy huffed and went limp. “Cass, how could you betray me like this? I mean, I get the brat turning on me, but you?” 

Cain smiled sweetly. 

Adjusting his hold on Jay, Damian shifted into a more comfortable position. He would deny it fiercely if asked, but Jay’s very presence was warm and comforting. He wasn’t snuggling closer to the boy though, no– just adjusting his and Cain’s very efficient pin. Jay, surprisingly, hadn’t objected any further. Damian glanced at him. 

He had disappeared into that distant place he had been all day. Damian didn’t like it. That melancholy look had no business being there. Just a minute ago he’d been here, been normal. Why was he gone again? He looked to Cain, who had curled herself around Jay’s other side. She traced the furrows in his brow carefully with a delicate finger. Damian shook him. “Jay? Akhi?” 

The boy blinked. “What?” he asked, titling his head. The action made him look younger– which was an arbitrary thing to think. 

Damian poked his ribs, “You go somewhere, far away in your head,” he stated carefully. “Where do you go, akhi?” 

“What are you talking about Damian?” Jay asked, starting to get up once more. Cain stopped him with a gentle finger _. Listen_. She eyed Damian, giving him the courage to say what she could not. 

Damian took a breath. “Ever since we arrived at the Manor, you’ve been acting… odd. Like you disappear into yourself. You hardly ate today as well.” The corner of Damian’s lips turned downward. “Are you sick?” 

Jay groaned. “I– I don’t know. Maybe.” He blew a stray lock of hair out of his face. “There’s just so many things here that– that I’m supposed to remember. It all feels like a deja vu.” 

“Help?” Cass signed.

He laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t know. Just… just give me some time, alright? I’ll be fine.” 

“Promise me you will tell us if you feel unwell,” Damian said suddenly. 

“Damian– what?”

“Promise me.” 

“I promise,” Jay assured. “Now are you two going to let me get up or what?”

Cain snickered, gesturing to the pillows at the head of the bed– then to Jay. Damian smirked. Jay was their pillow. Jay huffed exasperatedly. Yet Damian could see the smile tugging at his mouth clear as day. He was bad at hiding it. 

Cain lay down once more, resting her head on Jay’s chest. Jay pulled Damian closer. His hand busied itself in tousling Damian’s hair. Damian scowled. Secretly, though, it brought him back to simpler times. Back when Mother used to do the same to him before Grandfather deemed him too old for coddling. Back when he could still hide from Grandfather’s harshness in her shadow. 

He closed his eyes. Mother wasn’t here– but Jay and Cain were. Gone were the days where he could hide in his family’s shadows from Grandfather, but it was good to know that they would have his back. He pressed his face into Jay’s side, breathing in the scent of his soap. He was safe. This time, sleep came easily. 

––––––––––––––––

Cass awoke to comfort. The feeling of warmth surrounding her invited peace to stay in her chest. She smiled, looking at her brothers– both of which were still caught deeply in sleep.It was small things– things like this– that Cass began to search for now. Small moments when the world slowed down wondrously and nothing but heartbeats mattered. 

She ruffled Jay and Damian’s hair before quickly tiptoeing out of bed. She needed to make sure that Bruce’s house was safe against the League. Safe against Him. 

On Bruce’s tour, he had made sure to show them around well enough so that they didn’t get lost in the house. The house though– the house suited Bruce. It was big and lonely, but also full of life if you looked. Life, and history of hurt, pain, joy and excitement. It stood strong, stood proudly. 

It was the kitchen that Cass ended up in. Alfred and the two other boys were already there. Dick and Tim, she remembered. 

“Mornin’” Dick mumbled, his voice still bleary with sleep. He carried a bowl of colourful cereal to the table. Cass nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Good morning, Miss Cassandra,” Alfred greeted. “I am making some eggs for Master Timothy, who seems to think that simply coffee is an acceptable form of breakfast for a growing boy. Would you like some, my dear?” 

She nodded, then pointed to Tim’s steaming mug of coffee. It smelled strong, bitter, demanding. She wanted to try it. 

“Coffee as well? Well then, I’d best get on that.” 

Cass took a seat at the head of the table. Of the two boys, Tim seemed marginally more awake so she turned to him. “Bruce?” she signed. 

“No idea,” Tim said into his mug. “He’s probably either still upstairs or training downstairs. You need something?” 

_Yes_. 

“Maybe Dick and I can help you. What do you need?” 

Cass sighed. It wasn’t simple– wasn’t simple like yes and no, black and white. She wanted to make sure they would be safe– even though she was going to help bring the League here. But she didn’t have the words for that. 

Sure, she could get Jay or Damian to explain for her, but she wanted, _needed_ to be useful. By herself. 

It was then that Cass saw a scrap of paper and a pen on the counter. She’d never much cared for things like that before but it had purpose now. She gripped the pen clumsily, trying to figure out how to exactly execute her plan. She didn’t have much space on the paper, after all. Chewing on the end of the pen, Cass tried her best to ignore Tim’s vicious gaze. It was too loud. Cass needed to think. 

An idea came. Cass started to draw– and though it wasn’t pretty, it did its job. Her pen moved, depicting an image of Damian, Jay and her fighting off men wearing League robes. 

“Oh, so like Pictionary,” Tim breathed, looking over her shoulder. Cass didn’t pay it any mind. It wasn’t for her. 

Cass tried to remember exactly how the League uniforms looked. They were hooded and masked, with distinct clasps on the front. 

Tim began to guess once she finished the white lock in Jay’s hair. “Is that Jason?” He paused. “And you and Damian?”

Cass grinned, nodding. It was working! 

“You’re fighting… ninja?” 

She shook her head. 

“Assassins? Oh, the League.” _Yes_. 

Cass added a picture of the Manor in the background. Tall, lonely and elaborate. 

“You’re fighting at a house?” No. Cass added the Manor’s distinct fountain. “The Manor?” _Yes_. Tim’s eyes bulged for a moment. “Wait, Cass, you’re fighting the League at the Manor?” 

Cass put down the pen. Yes. Despite the message, Cass wanted to laugh. It worked! Tim understood her! She’d done it!

The boy frowned. “When’s this happening, Cass?” 

She shrugged. “Soon,” she signed. 

Tim sighed. “Dick, you got any ideas about this?” 

Dick blinked, looking up from his staring competition with his cereal. “What? Did you guys say something?” 

The boy buried his face in his hands. “Nevermind, Dick.” He looked at Cass. “Do you want me to tell Bruce for you?” Tim’s fingers tapped the side of his coffee mug in quick succession. “The League’s dangerous, you know.” 

Cass patted his shoulder, reaffirming. (She liked this new, idle friendly touch. She appreciated it when Jay or Damian did it. Tim might appreciate it too.) She did know that the League was dangerous. That was why she told Tim they were coming. So that Tim could tell Bruce. So that they would be safe. 

But Cass didn’t have the luxury of safety. Didn't have the comfort of warm, strong arms embracing her. Not when there was so much at stake. Not when the League didn’t know that coming for Cass’s family would be their undoing.


	4. It was Daedalus That Raised You, Daedalus That Mourned You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop I'm back! Enjoy!

At only the second day at the Manor, Bruce’s study was quickly becoming a place of dread for Jason. Why did he want to see Jason? Did Jason do something wrong? Did he change his mind about the whole re-adopting thing? Jason wasn’t the kid that Bruce lost, after all. What if Bruce decided to only adopt Damian and Cass? Jason didn’t know what he’d do with himself then. 

Despite this, Jason kept walking towards the study. He’d rather Bruce kick him out in person anyway so that Jason could get properly mad about it. 

Bruce’s study was past the kitchen, which was currently occupied by several people. More specifically, Tim and Dick. Oh God, he’d had a mental breakdown in front of them yesterday. Which meant that he was not going to talk to them for the next two-thousand years, Jason thought as he ‘noped’ past the kitchen with all the ninja skills he had. 

Finally, Jason knocked on the study door. 

Bruce’s rumbling voice greeted him. “Come in.” Stepping into the room, the first thing that Jason noticed was how exhausted the man looked. 

“You called me?” 

“The League is after you,” he said, matter-of-fact. Alright, straight to the point– Jason could deal with this. “And you decided to bring them here.” 

Jason blanched. He  _ had _ done that. It was necessary to keep them away from Sannah. But Bruce– would he kick Jason out over this? Jason  _ had  _ come into Bruce’s home, bringing two other kids with him, taken up several rooms in the house and now he had lured League operatives here too. Jason was an idiot. There was no way he wasn’t done for. 

A steady hand landed on Jason’s shoulder, reassuring him. “Don’t worry Jay-lad, I’m not going to kick you out. I would never dream of it.” Jason stilled. Bruce could read minds? The man chuckled. “No, I can’t read minds, Jason. You just had similar concerns when you first came to stay with us.” 

_ Oh.  _

Sometimes, Jason forgot that Bruce knew him better than he did. 

"That’s an interesting strategy, though Jay. Bringing your opponent to familiar territory. But how do you plan on bringing down waves of assassins?” 

Bruce… Bruce was strategizing with him, Jason realized. He wasn’t mad. He genuinely wanted to know Jason’s ideas. Bruce  _ trusted _ him. So he took a deep breath and told Bruce his plan. “The League knows better than to mess with you. They also don’t have infinite resources to waste on us. Once they know that we’re affiliated with you and under your protection, they should leave us alone.” 

The man grunted. “Intimidation. Smart.” 

A warm feeling in Jason’s chest blossomed at the praise. “Do you really think it will work?” 

“If we plan correctly.”

Even as Bruce spoke, Jason knew that if the League started to take hostages, things would get much messier. His mind flitted to Sannah, to Alfred, to Dick, to Tim. If they were dragged into this too, Jason didn’t know how he would be able to keep everyone safe. 

“Hey, don’t overthink it, chum. It’s good that we had news about this as early as we did. It gives us time to prepare. Dick, Tim and Alfred are working on securing the grounds and taking the proper precautions. As are your friends, I’m sure. Whatever happens, we’ll do it together. And when the League comes, we’ll be ready.” 

Jason appreciated the pep talk– he really did. Except, when he saw movement outside the window, he pretty much forgot everything Bruce said. “Uh Bruce?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What if they’re here now?” 

The man’s expression sobered. “Alert the others. Rendezvous in the Cave.” 

As it turned out, the League had sent a video transmission to the Cave. (How they had done so, Jason had no idea. Wasn’t the Cave supposed to be secure or something?) Tim said that they might be able to pinpoint the League’s location through the message if he could find a way to trace it. Damian told him they could not be so naive to think that the League would allow themselves to be traceable. 

“Well, play the message anyway,” Jason said. “I want to see what they have to say.”

The video started to play and Jason froze. The screen showed several League operatives surrounding… surrounding a captive, bound and gagged.  _ Sannah _ . Jason could feel Cass tense beside him. The doctor’s headscarf was dishevelled, yet she still glared at the camera proudly. From what Jason could tell, she luckily had no discernable injuries beyond minor scratches. 

Jason’s stomach twisted with guilt. He should have told her to leave town. He should have been more careful around her. He should have–

A hooded figure stepped forward. Ra’s. “Hello, Detective. I believe you are in possession of several things that belong to me,” the man drawled. “My men have told me that some deserters have found their way to you. You will give them to me and let them return to the League where they belong or–” he glanced disdainfully at Sannah– ”there will be blood on your hands.” 

The transmission ended.

“Father!” Damian cried. “We must do something! Sannah is an innocent civilian.”

Bruce’s mouth flattened. “We will. Be patient.” 

Cass squeezed Jason’s hand. An idea began to form in Jason’s mind. A stupid, stupid idea but a necessary one. “Keep them busy, okay Cass?” he breathed. “I’ve got a plan.” The girl eyed him suspiciously. “Trust me Cass, just this once okay?” She sighed, nodding. 

Making sure that nobody was looking, he slipped away. Jason really hoped that Bruce was right in guessing that the men were in the Manor’s gardens. For their sake, he just hoped they hadn’t ruined Alfred’s roses. (Alfred had roses?  _ Huh _ . He didn’t remember that before.) 

To Jason’s surprise, the assassins were actually there. Jason approached, purposefully making his steps heavy. Throwing his hands in the air, he called out to them. “Hey crackheads! How about an exchange?” The assassins’ heads snapped towards him. Sannah’s eyes widened when she saw him, silently pleading with him to reconsider. Jason drew in a breath. There would be no going back now. “I thought you might want someone a little more useful to you.” 

“Drop your weapon, boy,” Ra’s ordered, looking particularly constipated today. 

Slowly reaching for the sword strapped to his back, Jason obliged. He was fiercely aware of his heart pounding in his ears. He kept his head low, practically kneeling before the Demon’s Head. Jason felt like throwing up. “I’ll come willingly with you if you let her go and promise to leave the others alone.” 

The man hummed. He titled Jason’s head with the blade of his sword. Jason could feel the anticipation rolling off the surrounding assassins in waves. “What makes you so sure that I’ll adhere to that?” 

Jason forced himself to look the man in the eye. Forced himself to ignore the tens of other eyes boring into him. He swallowed. “I know your rules Ra’s. The people here are useless to you– you could never control the Detective or any of his proteges. It is fruitless to run after your heir– you could always get a new one. Cain’s assassin was never yours and she’d sooner die than follow either of your orders again. It’s a waste of time.” Jason licked his lips. “If you leave them alone, I can offer myself to you for you to do whatever you please. No tricks.” The words were acid in Jason’s mouth. 

Ra’s laughed. “You have some interesting opinions, young man.” 

Jason grit his teeth. “So do you agree or not, Ra’s?” 

“Let the woman go.” 

The assassins parted, letting Jason rush up to Sannah. “Are you okay?” 

“Jason–” Sannah gasped once she could speak. “Whatever you’re doing, you need to reconsider. We can figure out a better way, okay?” 

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Thanks for everything,” Jason said, standing. 

“Jason, wait–” 

Ra’s grabbed Jason’s shoulder. He had to go. “Just go to the Manor and tell them who you are, okay? They’ll help you from there,” he said, finally following Ra’s. Sannah cast a disapproving glance before begrudgingly making her way towards the Manor. 

Jason would figure this out. He just needed some time. 

Something hit the back of Jason’s head. Upon looking behind him, he saw nothing. He kept walking. Something struck his head again. There  _ was _ someone there. In the bushes, Jason could make out Cass’s slight figure. 

“Stupid,” she signed. 

Jason wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. 

“Ra’s,” a young voice called. Tim. Where the hell did he come from? “Fancy seeing you here.” Bruce stood at his side, looking more agitated than Jason had ever seen him. 

But before Jason could take advantage of the distraction, Ra’s whipped around, pushing Jason down. His knees met the ground with a swift thud. The wicked sharpness of Ra’s blade hovered against his throat. Jason stilled, his heart racing his chest. 

His eyes darted to Cass, whose own eyes were wide with fear. Yet she made no move to give away her position. 

Bruce marched towards the Demon’s Head. “Let him go, Ra’s,” he commanded, voice low. 

“I would, Detective, but this boy has made a deal with me.” Ra’s nudged his sword a little closer, the blade biting into Jason’s skin. He winced. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Ra’s, I swear–” 

“Ah-ah-ah,” the Demon’s Head tutted. “Another step and I slit his throat.” 

––––––––––––––

When Tim had come to him that morning with news of the League of Assassins attacking, Bruce wasn’t sure what to think. Upon finding out that they had been led to the manor by three ex-assassins, Bruce thought he should really talk to Jason. He already knew how the boy thought and plus– Jason had probably orchestrated this anyway. The kid always did have a knack for theatric plans. (Jason used to tell Bruce that he’d always been an enabler.) 

When Bruce followed Jason down to the Cave only to find a hostage message, he didn’t know what to say. Damian demanded that they take action immediately. Jason and Cass were anxious and plotting. Tim and Dick worked faithfully on finding a way to free the hostage. Bruce knew they expected him to do something– say something– tell them what to do. But Bruce’s family had just grown and he just wanted to keep them all safe. 

When his phone rang not five minutes later, Bruce didn’t know what to believe. 

“Give me access to the zeta tubes in your Cave immediately,” the tinny voice from the other side demanded. 

“What?” 

“Don’t play coy with me, Bruce. I know they exist. Now let me in– it is an emergency.” 

Bruce told Tim to allow the women access. 

When Alfred came rushing in, telling him that the hostage had been released in exchange for Jason, Bruce’s chest filled with worry. Yes, the hostage– Sannah– was upstairs and safe. But Jason– his son, was out there. He had to do something. Bruce didn’t know how he persuaded Damian to stay in the Cave under Dick’s supervision, but he was thankful for the small mercy. He and Tim set out. 

When he saw Jason surrounded by a horde of assassins with a sword to his throat, Bruce’s heart stopped. 

“Ra’s,” Bruce ground out carefully. “You have nothing to gain by killing him. Lower your weapon and we can negotiate.” 

“You know as well as I, Detective, that death is hardly a hindrance to me. In fact,” Ra’s smiled, all teeth, “by killing him I could easily make him into my blindly loyal servant. He would never even remember this conversation.” 

Jason looked mortified at the revelation. After spending so long without memory or control, it must be horrifying to know that it would happen again. Bruce wanted nothing more than to protect Jason from being subjected to that again. “I’m sure we can settle on something more valuable to you.” 

The Demon’s Head laughed mirthlessly. “What could you possibly give me?” When Bruce said nothing, the man continued. “I am not even sure you would want any of these children. _ I know _ your code. They have all broken it many times over. They are killers. You do not harbour people who kill.” Jason had squeezed his eyes shut, as if willing the words away. “Are you willing to out yourself a hypocrite over this? Are you willing to show that the Bat does not believe in justice but in vengeance?” 

Tim shifted uneasily. Bruce’s jaw twitched. “Ra’s.” His voice came out a Batman growl, low and threatening. “What did you make  _ my kids _ do?” 

His eyes narrowed dubiously. 

“They are my kids, Ra’s. No matter what they have done or will do. I hope you know that,” Bruce said, this time looking Jason in the eye. The boy gave him a strained smile in return. 

“Will you prove me right Detective?” 

Bruce set his jaw, glaring. This matter was more complicated than how Ra’s put it. He was Batman, had his code, but he was always,  _ always  _ a father first. 

“No, Father. But I will.” 

Bruce turned.  _ Talia _ . So she had managed to make it through the zeta tubes. She stood in the sun’s embrace, swords drawn and gleaming. She looked positively livid. 

“Daughter,” Ra’s said, narrowing his eyes. “I thought I had sensed your insubordination.” He addressed his assassins. “Capture her.” The assassins did nothing. “Are you deaf? I told you to capture her, you fools!” They stood, still as statues. 

Talia grinned, all teeth. “These men are loyal to me, Father. And I have had quite enough of your tyranny. Trifling with these children, _ my _ children, is the final straw.” She pointed a blade at Ra’s. “Duel me and we can settle this honourably.” 

Ra’s face reddened. “Ungrateful girl! I should have you killed a thousand times over for this! I should–”

Ra’s stance shifted minutely. To the layman, it may have looked like nothing special. Bruce noticed– saw what Ra’s was about to do before it happened. Ra’s would slit Jason’s throat and red red red would spill everywhere. His boy, his _ son _ , would slump to the ground, clutching his throat. Talia would leap at Ra’s in a passion, making her vulnerable. Ra’s would win, Jason would be dead and Talia captured. Bruce didn;t know what would happen to him. It was moments like this that he hated; when his body was too slow to keep up with his mind. 

But– before Bruce’s grim prophecy could come to pass, a girl leapt from the shrubbery and knocked the sword from Ra’s hands.  _ Cass _ . Her message was clear in her actions.  _ No more _ . 

Jason shuffled out of Ra’s reach, chest heaving. Cass stood in front of him, daring Ra’s to come closer. He didn’t. Tim shifted closer to Bruce, passing his collapsible bow staff into Bruce’s palm. He gave him a small smile. Bruce returned it. Gesturing for Tim to join Jason and Cass, Bruce moved towards Talia. He’d help her take care of Ra’s. There’d be hell to pay, after all, for laying a finger on  _ his _ kids. 

The Demon’s Head scowled. “You dare?” 

_ “We do.”  _

Those were as good vows as any. 

With a sharp order from Talia, the assassins closed in, forming a tight circle around her, Bruce and Ra’s. A dogfighting ring. Bruce knew of the similar traditions in the League but was amused that Talia had given this fight for Ra’s honour so little veneration. Bruce expanded his staff. Talia brandished her swords as she threatened her Father menacingly. 

It was Ra’s who attacked first, weaving between them with his blade flashing in the light. Bruce moved without thinking, parrying the strikes. His breath timed with the clang of each strike. Talia closed in behind Ra’s, eyes glinting. There was… something in her hand. But–

_ Clang clang clang _ – the distraction cost Bruce as Ra’s blade whispered across his arm. Red flowed to the ground. He stumbled. Bruce tore his attention away. Steadying himself, he drew his staff back to strike Ra’s solar plexus. 

_ Clang _ . 

Ra’s blocked the strike before whirling around to deflect Talia’s attack from behind him. He twisted her blades out of her hands quickly before snatching one up and plunging it into her shoulder. 

Talia screamed. 

Ra’s stood over her writhing body. “Insolent girl,” he tutted. 

But Bruce saw something roll out of Talia’s hand. A dart of some kind, he realized. As Ra’s was distracted with his gloating, Bruce snagged it and sunk it into the exposed skin at Ra’s neck. 

The man noticed almost immediately. He spun, knocking Bruce to the ground with the butt of his sword. “You,” he whispered. 

Bruce grinned. “Yes.” 

Ra’s crumpled almost comically. Talia looked over, clutching her shoulder. She met Bruce’s eyes.

“Thank you.” 

He nodded. 

Grimacing, Talia instructed the assassins to take Ra’s away. “The only reason I do not kill him where he lays is out of respect for you, Beloved. But his death is necessary.” 

Bruce frowned. He didn’t like it. But what the League did was out of his jurisdiction. “What was in that dart?” 

“A fast-acting poison engineered especially for him,” Talia smiled sweetly. She grunted. “Help me up, Beloved?” 

Bruce did. “Will you stay Talia? Let us treat you. Your kids miss you, you know.” 

Her hand squeezed Bruce’s. “They’re yours too.” She sighed. “ I must get back to the League. There will be many vying for power once they learn that my Father is gone. I must be there if there is to be any hope of reform within the League. Besides, they're safer here.” She paused, as if sensing Bruce’s questions. “I’m sorry for hiding them from you for so long,” she whispered. 

“Why?” 

“I was afraid I’d never see them again.” 

Bruce understood that selfishness. He lived it every day. “You can always visit, you know,” he murmured. “Will you?” 

Talia said nothing, simply giving Bruce a smile before slipping away. 

Bruce laughed softly to himself. Talia.  _ So dramatic _ . He walked down towards the Manor, the grounds strangely silent. It almost seemed as if the League had never been here at all. 

Jason, Cass and Tim sat under a tree– from which they’d have a perfect vantage point to watch the fight against Ra’s. But if Bruce didn’t know better, he’d have thought the three were having a family picnic. Family. Bruce sighed. He sat in the grass beside them. 

“Are you okay?” 

The three stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re the one bleeding, Bruce,” Tim said incredulously. “You tell me.” 

Jason nodded. “Don’t worry, B. Just the regular Tuesday.” 

Cass gave him a thumbs up. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. That is, until Tim finally had enough and barreled into Bruce’s side. Jason and Cass joined him, if a little hesitantly. He grunted. “What?” 

Tim grinned, looking up. “You worry too much.” 

“Well I think I’d worry about you just the right amount.” Jason laughed as Bruce ruffled his hair. “You kids are my life. I don’t ever want to lose you.” 

Jason wrinkled his nose. “But not Damian and Dick, right? Because those two–” Jason yelped as Cass pinched him. 

“Be nice,” she signed. 

Bruce laughed. “Them too, Jay.” He stood. “Come on, now. They’re probably all waiting for us.” 

And with that, he led them down the path to the Manor. Safe, as they should be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good dad Bruce! Good Dad bruce! Good mom talia! Good mom talia!! I'm sorry the fight scene was pretty horrible what with all the 'Poison Ex machina' but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I'm just bad at climaxes -_- 
> 
> Anyway, I'm planning to write an epilogue for this though it might be a bit delayed because I'm in the middle of writing ANOTHER fic (which you can check out here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29048736/chapters/71300226 ) which is about Jason making friends with ghosts!! 
> 
> See you guys soon!
> 
> I'd love to hear your headcanons and ideas! You can send me them on my Tumblr! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aizashard

**Author's Note:**

> Jason tells Damian "Ihtaram" – which means 'behave' in Arabic (Thank you to a very nice commenter who helped me with that!)
> 
> Comments and Kudos always appreciated! <3


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